The Hunger Games of Panem,Oceania
by TVH Bookfan
Summary: Katniss Everdeen takes her sister's place in Oceania's 74th Hunger Games. Along with her fellow tribute, Winston Smith, she will fight to the death and defy the power of the controlling Capital and the Party.
1. Chapter 1

Today is the worse day of the year: Reaping day.

For 74 years, the proletarian population of Panem, Oceania is forced by the Capital to send one boy and one girl from each of the 12 districts that make up Panem in order to fight to the death in an event called the Hunger Games, in which only one player, or tribute, can survive. The games are shown through telescreens, which are devices the Capital uses to watch the every move of the proles of Panem and the party members, or those employed by the Capital. The purpose of the games is simple (at least according to the Capital): to remind everyone of the suffering caused by the proletarian rebellion led by District 13, which was wiped off the map during a ten-year war with the Capital.

I hate the Capital. Because of it, people starve everyday and live under constant fear and suffering, especially in District 12, which is where I, Katniss Everdeen, live. But the one thing that makes me despise the Capital the most is that because of the horrible conditions they force us to live under, my father died in a mining accident when I was only twelve, leaving my mother in a deep depression and my little sister, Prim, and me alone in the world. The one thing that distracts me from this hatred, while also helping my family survive, is hunting. Every morning, I escape from the watch of the telescreen, cross the long fence separating District 12 from the rest of the world, and enter the woods, the only place in which I can be myself. But this morning, I can't go on account of the dreadful reaping.

Right now, I'm dropping Prim off with the other twelve-year-olds. It gives me so much pain just to look at them. They're so young, and yet so scared. In the entire history of the Hunger Games, no one under the age of fourteen has ever been a victor. Prim knows this, and when I'm about to leave to join the sixteen-year-olds, she puts her little arms around me and starts crying.

"I'm so scared, Katniss. What if they pick me?" she sobs.

"It's going to be all right, Prim. Your name's only in there once. The odds are completely in your favor." There's no way I would let Prim put her name in more then once, not even if it meant it would double our food rations. My name's in there fifty times this year, and I can always hunt for extra food if needed.

As I'm hugging Prim, I hear the anthem being played on the large telescreen , which is placed at the very top of the outdoor stadium . Everyone in Oceania is watching us, I realize in horror as we appear along with eleven other images of siblings and friends comforting each other. The anthem is played along with these images, which makes it even more terrible. I run as fast as I can to the sixteen-year-old section, where many have already seen me on the telescreen and are giving me strange looks.

At that moment, Effie Trinket, the escort for District 12 this year, appears at the stadium. Her hair is dyed pink, which goes well with her glittery pink dress. They always have weird fashions in the Capital, whereas in the districts, those ugly blue overalls we have to wear everyday don't give us much of a chance to be stylish. But what I find really disturbing is that red sash tied around her waist, indicating she's part of the Anti-Sex League, which is mandatory for all young women who are party members. When I see this, I wonder if the Capital is just as controlling towards party members as it is towards the proles here in the districts.

" Welcome everybody," she says, trying to force herself to sound as enthusiastic as possible, when it's obvious she wishes she were in a more successful district, such as 1,2, or 4, which have victors almost every year. District 12 has only had two victors, and one of is this very strange man named O'Brien, who according to rumors, can read minds, which allowed him to learn the worse fears of his fellow tributes in the 50th Hunger Games, and killed them according to what he saw." It's an honor to be representing District 12 in the 74th annual Hunger Games," Effie continues, her tone still sounding the same.

Then, the propaganda video is played. It's always the same: graphic images from the ten-year war of half-starving people with severe wounds, buildings destroyed all over the Capital by bombs, and the sky being completely covered in smoke. Then, everything looks beautiful: children are smiling, meadows are full of flowers, and the Capital is fully reconstructed, looking better then it ever was before. "And this wonderful and prosperous nation of Oceania is the way it is today because of the Hunger Games," announces a woman near the end of the video. "They keep the citizens of Panem in order and serve as a reminder of Big Brother's mercy towards children." After this, they show last year's victor (from District 2) riding a chariot across the Capital. He waves his arm to the party members, who are all cheering madly, and yells, "I love the Party, I love Ingsoc, but best of all, I love Big Brother!"

Effie is the only person who claps at the end of the video. The rest of us remain silent, which is our way of showing that we don't agree with any of this. I know that the victor may be cheering and phrasing Big Brother (or President Snow, as we call him here in Panem) but on the inside there's but fear. "And now, the moment we've all been waiting for, the usual, ladies first." She then puts her hand on a large hat, waits for a moment, and then pulls out a strip of paper with the ID number, last name, and first initial of the female tribute. Before I can think about who it might be, she says loudly, "2156, Everdeen, P."


	2. Chapter 2

No. Not Prim. There must be some mistake. Effie could have said the wrong initial or ID number. My name was put in there fifty times. It must have been me.

But just as I keep wishing it were a mistake, I see Prim starting to make her way up to the stadium. I can tell that she's scared, but she's doing her best to hide this as she holds her head up high, makes a seemingly emotionless face, and says nothing. But all that is just too much for me.

"Prim!" I yell, and start running. Two peacekeepers immediately start following me, but before they can get me, I say something that comes unexpected even for me, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Everyone is now staring at me, dumbstruck. District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in years. In more successful districts, volunteering for the chosen tribute is very common and considered an honor. Here, everyone looks as if I'm about to commit suicide. I can see my mother standing with the other parents. She's covering her face with a handkerchief, as I've seen many parents of chosen tributes do over the years. But the most devastated person of all is Prim, who yells, "No Katniss! Please don't do this!"

"I have to, Prim," I say, and I bravely walk up to the stadium without shedding a tear. Prim has to be dragged away by the peacekeepers to our mother, who wraps her arms around her the moment she's nearby.

"Well, this seems interesting. A volunteer in District 12, that's something you don't see in every reaping," says Effie, looking as if she can't take all this in, and I don't blame her. I'm just as surprised as she is. "What's your name, dear?"

"Katniss Everdeen. I'm Primrose Everdeen's older sister."

Effie nods and says, "We'll give you applause and everything at the end, dear." Then she turns to the audience and says, "And now for the boys." Once again, she reaches into the hat, waits a while, and pulls out a slip. As if having to volunteer for Prim weren't enough, hearing the name of my fellow tribute is just as much of a shock as Effie says, "6079, Smith, W."

Of all the boys in District 12, it has to be Winston Smith. Winston Smith, the boy who took the chocolate from me back when I was twelve.

It had been a rainy day. I was coming out of a candy shop with two chocolate bars. It felt a long time since I had eaten. Prim and I were almost starving, and my mother was no help at all because of her depression. The moment I was out of the store, I stated eating the chocolate, but slowly, because I wanted it to last as long as possible. The other chocolate was in my backpack, since I was saving it for Prim. But as I was in the middle of eating, I felt someone opening up the backpack and trying to get something out of it. I turned around and saw that it was Winston. His father had died six months before mine did, of some disease which my mother (who heals people who are sick or wounded for small amounts of money) was unable to identify. A couple months later, his mother and baby sister disappeared, and Winston was left alone, living in the streets and stealing from anyone he could approach.

"Winston! You no-good thief! Give me back that chocolate!"

He just stopped and stared at me. Even then, it was obvious to me that he was a lot worse off then I was, but I didn't care. As a matter of fact, I hated him.

"What do you want? Are you just waiting to be reported to the peacekeepers? Did you know that my sister and I are at the point of starvation? You're not the only person in District 12 who is…"

Before I could go on, he gave me half of the chocolate bar and then took off without saying a single word.

Today, Winston looks a lot better off then he was on that day. He ended up getting taken in by the local bakers, who allowed him to live with them in exchange for working in the bakery. I see him almost every day at school, and not once has he talked to me, but I can always tell that he notices me. However, in comparison to how I entered the stadium, he looks extremely nervous and has tears running down his eyes. Of course, no one volunteers for him.

" Let's here it for this years' tributes: Winston Smith and Katniss Everdeen" announces Effie, and this time, she really does sound enthusiastic.

Nobody claps, but what's done instead is even more amazing: everyone sticks out their three middle fingers next to their foreheads and make a special solute to us. I don't know what this is suppose to mean, but I'm sure it's some symbol of honor.

The telescreen then goes black, indicating that the reaping is over. It's time for Winston and me to go to the Justice Building, where we'll be saying goodbye to our families and get ready to go. At the end of the day, we will be going on a train to the Capital, which is located in what use to be called London (trains are now able to travel through oceans using large canals). Within two weeks, the games will begin.

Before we get taken into custody by the peacekeepers, Winston grabs my hand.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"That sure showed them," is all he says, and I need no explanations for this, because I know what he means: in my own way, I had just started to defy the power of the Capital.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone! Seeing that this story is becoming more popular and it's been so long since I updated, here is Chapter 3. I hope you all enjoy it, and please continue to review or follow.**

It 's not until I am in the Justice Building that I start realizing what a reckless thing I'd just done. I willing became a tribute in a deadly game in which District 12 hasn't experienced success for twenty-four years. Not only am I most likely going to die, but my death will be viewed by every resident, party member and prole, in Oceania.

Before I have any more time for thinking about my fate, my mother and Prim, lead by three peacekeepers, come in to say goodbye to me. Prim puts her arms around and says, "You have to win, Katniss. I couldn't stand it you died. Please promise me that you'll do whatever it takes to win."

"I can't promise you anything, Prim. You know perfectly well what the chances of anyone from District 12 winning are."

Prim nods sadly. Then she says, "But can you at least promise you'll try?"

"I will." Then I look at my mother. "Mom, you'll be the only one left to take care of Prim. Promise that it won't be like last time."

Mom looks me in the eye. "I can't tell you how I really feel, Katniss, but remember who you're really up against. It's not those kids in the games, it's…"

"Time's up," says one of the peacekeepers. They escort them away from the building as quickly as possible. Our goodbye could have lasted a little longer, but what mom was about to say cut it short. All I can think about is how lucky she was that the telescreen wasn't on.

The next person who comes is Madge Undersee, the mayor's daughter. She's probably the closest thing I have to a friend, despite the fact that we practically live in two different worlds. As the mayor's daughter, she has to be part of the Youth League, which is mandatory for all children of party members. At the age of eighteen, she will have to take an exam for party qualification, and at twenty-one, she will have to join the Anti-Sex League. I try not to think about this as we sit together at lunchtime or go on small walks around town, because I can never imagine Madge, who's smart and very kind, as one of them.

"Katniss, I want you to have this," she says, holding something very small in her hand. When I see what it is, all I can do is gasp. It's a mockingjay pin. If I wear this, the Capital could interpret it as a sign of rebellion. "Thank you, Madge, but I don't think I can take this."

She looks at me strangely, making me realize that she may not now that mockingjays evolved as a result of the rebellion, after jaberjays, which were created by the party to bring back information of the proletarian rebels, mated with mockingbirds after the rebels found ways to trick them into not returning to the Capital. I think of telling her this, but then decide that it's too dangerous. Also, I've already caused enough trouble by volunteering in Prim's place, so this may just be a minor offense. " Never mind. Thanks for the pin."

She gives me a sad smile and walks away without saying a word. I'm alone for a long time, most of which I spend watching coverage of the reapings in other districts through the telescreen, which just automatically turned on by itself. The tributes that stuck out the most to me were a boy from District 1 who seemed to know too much, a beautiful girl with glimmering blond hair and a dress to match who was his fellow tribute, a fat boy from District 3 who didn't seem to know enough, an anxious girl from District 8 who wouldn't take her eyes off the telescreen, and the most haunting of all, a small twelve-year-old girl from District 11.

Sometime in the middle of this, Winston walked in. He was writing in this notebook and was so quiet that I didn't notice him until now.

"Hey. Where did you get that notebook?" I say to him.

"At the Hob," he whispers to me, knowing very well that his words may be caught by the telescreen. The Hob is what we call the black market here in District 12. The peacekeepers don't intervene much with it, but we still have to be careful when we talk about it, because you never know who's listening.

"What much could you have to write about?" I say a little sarcastically.

"A lot, believe it or not. Today's certainly been an eventful day."

"Can't argue with that. And it's only going to get even more eventful. But we'll have to see if you'll still be around to write about it."

He smiles and goes back to writing. We remain silent until a peacekeeper comes up to us and says, "It's time to go. The train will be leaving in ten minutes."

Winston and I follow him silently to the train, where Effie Trinket and O'Brien will be waiting for us. I sigh and look around me. My time spend in this bleak building is only the beginning. There will be more to come.


	4. Chapter 4

"You're late!" Effie exclaims when we're finally inside the train. "We should have left five minutes, but since I'm the only one who seems to care about getting District 12 to the Capital early for once…"

"Actually, Effie, I'd say they made it quite early. They probably just wanted to have a small conversation among themselves before getting prepared for the games. There's no need to get all worked up about it."

It's O'Brien. In comparison to Effie, who looks as if some disaster were about to happen, he looks completely calm, just as I've always seen him. After he gets Effie to settle down, he turns to Winston and me and says, "Hello there, Katniss and Winston. It seems no surprise to me that you're both tributes this year. I believe you both had a rather unpleasant encounter a few years ago."

Why does he have to this now? As if the fact that I'm probably never going to come home again weren't hard enough, I have to deal with O'Brien telling us that he already knows what happened between Winston and me four years ago. I don't care if he can read minds. That shouldn't give him the right to get into other people's personal business.

It's not that he's always unpleasant. As a matter of fact, he's usually very polite and even a bit nice with everyone in District 12. Once, when my mother ran out of those herbs she uses to treat her patients with, O'Brien showed up with a basket full of them and told us that he just guessed we needed something. The problem with him is that he knows too much about everything and you never know whether he's on your side or against you.

After shaking hands with us, he turns to the telescreen (which was showing interviews with party members about who their favorite tributes were so far) and turns it off. Both Winston and I gasp. Then Winston asks, "You can do that?"

"Of course I can. We've got the guards in case anything goes wrong. And besides, there's not much use in watching over tributes. You're both already under the Party's custody."

He finally leaves us alone to go read a newspaper from the Capital. Winston and I go sit by the window as the train starts leaving. As I look around District 12, I start feeling sad. I may never come back here again. I won't be able to go hunting, play around with Prim, talk with Madge at school, and worse of all, I won't be able to have to have time simply for myself. They've taken everything away from me.

Tears start running down my cheeks. I try to wipe them away, hating myself for being such a coward, but not before Winston sees me like this. He puts an arm around me and says, "I miss District 12 already, too. Life may have been hard there, but it was still home. And at least we had some freedom there."

" Nobody has freedom anymore," I say sadly.

He does not respond to this. Instead, he starts writing in his notebook again. I manage to get a glimpse of what he writes, which includes, 'I love', but I'm not able to see the rest. He seems nice, but that may not be the case a week from now. The games turn even the nicest people into monsters. It'll do no good to get too close to Winston, considering the fact that one of us may have to kill the other. But I can't think too much about this. I must keep my promise to Prim and do my best in the games no matter what.

**I realize this chapter is shorter then the others, but since I'm on winter break now, I plan to update this and another story more often, so please continue reading. Things will get a lot more interesting in later chapters.**


	5. Chapter 5

The train ride to the Capital lasts for two days. Although I can't say that I'm completely happy during these last few days, I'm not miserable either. When you've got a rather amusing escort, an all-knowing mentor, and a quiet but observant boy who seems to care about you as company, it's hard to be sad all the time.

When the telescreen is on, we watch a thousand interviews with party members about everything ranging from which district could possibly have a victor this year( we actually got mentioned in two of these interviews) to the various preparations being done for the games. A few propaganda stuff about the war with Eurasia (which has been going on for four years) and how wonderful Big Brother and Ingsoc are get shown, but, despite some protests from Effie about how important it is to watch it, O'Brien usually turns off the telescreen as soon as they start being shown and starts talking about strategies for winning the games.

"As soon as it all starts, don't spend too much time in the cornucopia trying to get supplies. That's where most of the tributes who are gone by the first day get themselves killed. Also, one of the first things you should do is look for water. Half of all tributes in the games die from starvation or dehydration, and believe me, getting dehydrated is way worse then starving. I almost died that way, and if it hadn't been for…" He stopped talking for a while.

"What? Did someone have to get you water or something?" I asked curiously.

"Never mind. That all happened years ago," he said.

It dosen't take a psychic to guess that O'Brien wants to hide any weaknesses that he has. If anyone were to see him as anything other then the intelligent, intuitive victor from District 12, he wouldn't be able to stand it.

As for Effie, I noticed that she seems more relaxed when the telescreen is off. She gives us details about what she does when she's not an escort. So far, I've learned that she works for the Ministry of Truth ( which is in charge of controlling the media) as a publisher of proletarian literature. She's in charge of handling the machines for publishing, which she actually enjoys because, according to her, she's better at hands-on work and is not smart enough to do editing (not that hard to believe).She's also a leader in the Anti-Sex league, which is why she was chosen to be an escort.

"District 12 must have been your last choice," Winston said to her one time.

"To be honest, it was. But I don't mind much now. You kids seem a lot smarter and more civilized then the previous District 12 tributes. Also, O'Brien kind of reminds me of the Careers. He may not be attractive, but he's really clever and isn't a drunk or drug addict like some of the other Victors from the lower districts. It's hard not to admire that, don't you think so?"

"Yeah. I guess so," Winston said a little uneasily.

Any attempts I made at trying to hate Winston failed completely. On the first night, he asked me if I was sure I would sleep well, because if I couldn't, I could always wake him up and talk to him. I assured him that it wouldn't be necessary, but I ended up having trouble sleeping for about two hours. When I did sleep, I woke up from a dream that I couldn't remember well, but since I felt hot and sweaty, it must have been bad. I ended up in Winston's room, and he didn't get a bit upset when I woke him up. We talked for a while about how things were at home. I told him about how we rarely had to go hungry anymore on account of how I went hunting everyday and how my mother had gotten over her depression years ago and continued to offer treatments for the sick and injured. He talked about how working in the bakery went well, but that the couple who took him in didn't come close to being like parents and treated him more like a worker then a part of the family. I went back to my room around midnight and slept a lot better.

Of course, this is about to come to an end. Right now, as Winston and I are looking out the window, we can see the Capital. To our surprise, it looks nothing like the way it does in the telescreen. The buildings look about a hundred years old and are mainly either brown or gray colored, there are barely any cars or buses being driven around, and almost no one is dressed elegantly.

"Are you sure we're in the Capital?" I ask O'Brien.

"Of course we are. The scenes shown of the Capital in the districts are usually edited to make it seem as if everything is luxurious so that anyone outside of the Capital can get upset over how terrible their homes are in comparison to how it is here. But in reality, the Capital is more like how Districts 1 and 2 look like." He says all of this as if it's that simple to find out. But this leaves me wondering what else I thought I knew about the Capital is actually false. O'Brien senses this and says, "If this is a surprise to you, then there's a lot more to go that you'll both find a lot more astonishing then this."

If the games could just start right away, I wouldn't have minded this. But with one more week to go, I'm going to be in for a lot of surprises which I already know are not going to be pleasant.


	6. Chapter 6

The train came to a stop. This is it, I think. The games may not have officially started, but the whole two- week process in preparation for them was about to begin. We all step out of the train, followed by the guards. To be honest, I almost don't see the purpose of having guards. Throughout the whole trip to the Capital, all they did was watch the interviews on the telescreen , eat anything that they could find, and sometimes got coffee or this beverage called Victory Gin for Effie or O'Brien. One of them actually saw me entering Winston's room on the first night and just said, "Lucky you're not a party member. If any girl in the Capital tried entering some boy's room in the middle of the night, she would be arrested by the Thought Police before she could even take her clothes off." Effie says that guards are usually Party Members who owe some kind of debts. Not all of them are well suited for the job, but it's better than getting kicked out of the Party.

All sorts of people stop to look at us as we walk by. Most of them are Party Members, who look at Winston and me as if they've never seen anyone from Panem before. Their children are especially excited about seeing us. At one point, a little boy and his younger sister run up to us and say, "Aren't you the ones from District 12?"

"Yes, we are," I answer, trying to sound calm.

"Weren't last year's games the best? My favorite part was the end, when Gorgias Steel hit the boy with that big stone and said, 'Victory is mine!'" says the little girl.

I remember that perfectly well. Prim ran off with her cat as soon as it was over, and one of the Peacekeepers tried to get her back home to watch the rest, but I got her instead and we spend the rest of the afternoon in the woods. Remembering how scared Prim was of watching that and seeing this little girl from the Capital who actually thought that was fun to watch completely scares me.

However, the next thing they say scares me even more. The little boy turns to his mother and says, "Mummy, why can't we go see the hangings tonight? You promised yesterday that we could."

"The hangings?" asks Winston.

The children's mother smiles, as if a child wanting to watch a hanging were the cutest thing in the world. "They hang Eurasian prisoners at the end of Hate Week. Ever since the children became part of the Spies group, there's nothing that can excite them more than watching that."

"I want to the see the hangings, mummy! Please!" begs the little girl.

"Maybe during the next Hate Week, darling," says the mother patiently. Turning to us, she says, "May the odds be ever in your favor." Then they leave.

"There's nothing better than devotion to the party from a young child," says Effie.

"What? Are you saying that it's normal for young children to actually enjoy watching people get killed?" I ask.

"Here in the Capital, it is. Those children are raised very differently from children in Panem," says O'Brien.

I say no more, knowing that it could get me in trouble. From the way Winston looks at me, I know that he feels the same way about it as I do.

We don't see a lot of proles around. Effie says that the majority of them are either at their jobs or at the bars, where they usually hang out. One of the few ones around says something unintelligible to me, but Effie tells him to go back to gutters where he belongs. "Any proles that are out during these hours are bums, and most likely criminals as well. Don't you ever talk to them," she tells us.

At school, they tell us that proles outside of Panem are free to do whatever they want. There are some that receive some education and have some kind of work, but others are illiterate and devote themselves to illegal activities such as selling drugs, prostitution, gambling, stealing, and involvement in the black market. They only get arrested if they put Party members in danger. Although their way of life is certainly not ideal, at least they don't have to fear getting put into something like the games. Sometimes I think that if there could ever be another rebellion again, they could be the ones to start it.

We're now about to enter the Ministry of Truth, where those involved in the games will first meet up. Then, we'll enter a building called the Game Arena, where our training will be held. I wonder what I'll be in for next.


	7. Chapter 7

It's ironic when you think about it. Calling the section of the party that's in charge of changing information the Ministry of Truth, considering the fact that they're a bunch of liars. Then, I immediately stop myself from this type of thinking. We're now in the building, so it would be easy for them to figure out what I'm thinking and consider me a thought criminal. O'Brien nods at me, clearly knowing what I'm trying to do. It's bad enough to have one person reading your mind, but to have between five hundred and a couple thousand (which is the estimated amount of party members who are part of the Thought Police) can be dangerous.

"Octavia!" shouts Effie when she sees a woman with red hair, a glittering red dress, and of course, that dreadful sash. They hug each other as if it's been years since they laid eyes on each other, instead of just a couple of days. "Katniss, Winston, this is Octavia. She will be the head of your prep team. I promise you'll love her."

"Oh yes! Ever since I saw the Hunger Games as a young child, I knew I was destined to make a future victor look stunning. You've got some cute ones here, Effie, but those clothes will have to go! Why do wear such hideous rags?"

"They're the required uniform for proles in Panem. Haven't you seen them before?" says Winston.

"I've always seen their clothes, but I always assumed they wore them because they couldn't afford anything else. I mean, if you see people at the prole's corner, you'd probably think they looked like the rich capitalists of the dark days, but in the districts, everyone looks like they have nothing."

"What's a capitalist?" I ask. They never talked about this in school.

"The villains of the past" is all she says. Then she notices O'Brien. "I know you! You're the one who won by throwing rats into the face of a career! "

"You're correct. It came as a surprise to the Party that someone from the poorest district in Panem could win."

"Actually, it didn't. According to the Party, there are special children who are born with the ability to perceive things that others can't. You and Wiress from District 3 are some of the only ones who weren't careers who…"

"I think you've said enough, Octavia. The film is about to begin."

And being the psychic that Octavia describes, the film begins at that exact moment.

At first, it's just like the film we saw at home: a bunch of exaggerations about how Oceania is best place in the world and how great Big Brother is, but then they start talking about the history of how Ingsoc became Oceania's political ideology. According to the film, it resulted from the world's downfall after being in the Capitalist's(which seemed to be mainly businessmen and politicians) control. They exploited everyone who was below them, and by the twenty-first century, the main form of exploitation was through making every kind of technology imaginable available to the masses. The idea behind this was supposedly that by providing as much new gadgets as possible, the Capitalists could take as much money from the people as possible for their own profit. However, the consequences soon followed. By the twenty-second century, the world's poverty and illiteracy rates were at an all-time high, and the majority of the old businesses had failed. As a result, a new political ideology rose in England, which was known as English Socialism. According to its' founders, it was suppose to end the exploitation of the proletarians, materialism, and the power of the Capitalists by focusing on the importance of workers, the sharing of all goods according to need, and most important of all, loyalty to the nation and a perfect leader whom the people would love as if he were part of their own family. And so, Oceania was created, and for five hundred years, it enjoyed prosperty and power, and the proletarian population was considered free.

But then, according to the film, District Thirteen began spreading lies about the corruption of the party to its' own members and the proletarian population, which was not really free but held in a form of slavery by being only allowed to focus on work and their own communties without true knowledge of the party's ways. And then, everyone goes crazy when they start to mention Emanuel Goldstein, who lead Panem's rebellion against the Capital. Party members start screaming and booing. Some burst into tears and scream, "Why?! Why?!" Effie throws a book from a desk at the direction of the telescreen and screams, "Pigs! They were all pigs!" Octavia falls to the floor in a faint, and a man next to us nearly hits the District 5 female tribute, and when he is lead away by guards, he yells, "Your famillies did this, you wicked little brats, and now you're all paying for it!"

This is followed by images of the war(which according to some people in District 12, only lasted about five years instead of ten, as the party claims), which are so horrific that some of the tributes nearly start crying, but are stopped by their mentors, who shake their heads at them or make some kind of gesture to let them know that they can get in trouble for this. At one point, they showed images of dead bodies being eaten by rats, and Winston nearly fainted, but O'Brien gripped him by the shoulder so that he wouldn't lose consciousness. Of course, the Party members act as crazy as before, but no one tries to stop them.

But then, everyone stops when they show an image of Oceania's previous leader. This time, they cheer with joy and some people even drop to the floor in bows. Someone even screams, "My savior!" The Treaty of Treason took away all of the things that Panem's Proletarian population was once allowed to do, increased work hours and lowered benefits and wages, sentenced all leaders of the rebellion to death (except for Goldstein, who according to some people, ran off to Argentina to try to form another group of rebels to stop the Capital), and of course the Hunger Games were created, which was intended to break up the thing that was most important to the proles: the family. The film ends there, and I'm only left with more questions and a feeling that we may never find out how much things the Party is trying to hide, there seems to be so much.


	8. Chapter 8

When the film was over, a lot of people dressed similarly to Octavia began taking the tributes somewhere. "Time to get you all dressed!" she exclaimed happily. I'm not looking forward to this. After showing us some of the most disturbing stuff in the world, they expect us to be in the mood for dressing up? But there's one thing I must do. I go up to Winston and say, "Can we talk later?"

"What? About what we just saw?" he asks me.

I nod, and in response, he says, "Yeah, as soon as we can be alone." And at that moment, Octavia drags me away to prepare me for the opening ceremony.

I never knew how long it could take simply to get washed and dressed up. Apparently, having hair all over your legs, arms, and armpits is considered disgusting in the Capital, so they cover me with this hot wax to get rid of every hair in my body that isn't in my head. Also, they wash my hair with about five different shampoos because they think it's too oily. To be honest, not even my prep team looks like they do this every day. One of them named Venia says that they spend a whole day doing this for themselves before the games start. Usually, Party members aren't allowed to wear makeup or jewelry, and things like hair shampoo and shaving cream are only given to them every two months. Like us, they also have to wear uniforms, but for them, it's this blue suit that looks like something a prisonner would wear. The day before the opening ceremonies, according to them, is a lot more work than the actual games themselves. On that day, the Minstry of Plenty provides unlimited amounts of clothing and accessories for specific party members. "Surely, you have days to get all dressed up, too, don't you, Katniss?" asked Venia in the middle of plucking my eyebrows.

"No. We wear overalls every day except for going to bed," I say.

"That's a shame. You'd certainly look good in a dress. I promise that Cinna will make you look stunning."

Every opening ceremony is the same. The tributes wear outfits according to their district's specific work. For twelve, this means dressing like coal miners every single year. Not very stunning, if you ask me.

However, when I actually see Cinna after two hours of preparation, he has other plans for my outfit. "Did you know that you're one of the most talked about tributes?" he asks me. When I look at him, I notice that he dosen't seem like most of the Party members I've seen in the Capital. Just by speaking, he shows that he's not blinded with strong feelings of patriotism and victory promoted by the Party, or as hungry for vengence as I saw all those people were when watching the film.

"No, but I did notice that I got mentioned a lot in the interviews," I say.

"Well, I don't think that someone who gets that much attention should just have to dress as a coal miner," he says. He has something different planned out, and I don't know whether to be excited or nervous about this.

"So what did you have in mind?" I ask.

"I'm going to make you look as if you were on fire."

"What? Making me look as if I'm already in enough danger?" I'm shocked. Maybe he is like the other Party members after all.

"That's not what I mean. Back in the old days, if someone said you're on fire, that meant that you were spectacular," he clarifies. Then, in a lower voice, he says, "Having a volunteer from the most impoverished district in Panem is already defying the system. A memberable opening outfit could make a big difference when it comes to obtaining sponsors. Let's show them your true power."

He was right. On first look, my dress looks any ordinary red dress, but by pressing these lights that Cinna put all around it, it looks like I were in flames. So when the parade begins, it's the usual: some tributes dress as tools (District three: factories), others as fishes( District four: fishing), and even as wheat (District 11: agriculture), but when Winston and I go up in our float, we truly are stunning. Everyone cheers loudly, a ton of pictures are taken, and some people even throw flowers at us. The moment is lovely, until it comes close to the end and we see the party's slogan:

WAR IS PEACE

FREEDOM IS SLAVERY

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH


	9. Chapter 9

When we enter what will be our home for the next two weeks, there's this big feast waiting for us. To be honest, I have never had a meal that big in my entire life and had never seen anyone back home who did, not even the merchants. First, they started with something small which they called an appetizer, followed by about a main dish and all this other stuff that they kept passing around. We ate everything: bread, cheese, various meats, these fizzy drinks called sodas for me and Winston and about every kind of liquor in the Capital for Effie and O'Brien, cakes and pies, and then, they gave us chocolate ice cream. I had not eaten chocolate since that incident, and the moment I tasted the stuff, I felt slightly sick (although that also could have been because of all the food I ate). I looked up at Winston, and he gave me this strange glance, which I guess meant that he felt the same way as I did. Then O'Brien seemed to be observing how we were acting, and we just stopped. He knew everything, and I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of watching us in some kind of distress. Effie, of course, had no idea about this and kept talking about how wonderful we looked at the opening ceremony and how all the meals they made in the Capital were of the best in Oceania.

Throughout the meal, we were served by this young woman who looked Asian and did not say one word. She made these strange gestures when she approached Effie or O'Brien and they would give her some kind of order in response. As for Winston and me, she kept her distance from us whenever possible. I almost wondered if she was a slave. Back at home, there were rumors that war prisoners were sometimes kept alive if they agreed to serve party members for the rest of their lives for no pay. I can't be sure of this, but by the way that woman acted, I think it's possible.

I'm now at my room, going through all the books which are in this large bookshelf next to my bed. They're all written in newspeak, which is a language used by party members mainly for writing. The proles are not allowed to learn it, which I found out one time when I tried to look at a Newspeak dictionary that Madge was carrying around. She didn't explain why, but it wasn't necessary. It was pretty foolish of them to leave these books here. Do they think we're illiterate or something? Effie and O'Brien are in bed (the liquor made them so tired that Effie nearly fell asleep with her head on O'Brien's shoulder. He woke her up, but mainly grumbled to her since he was tired himself), and Winston should be coming any minute now.

When I'm looking though what seems to be a newspeak edition of a book of fairy tales (some of which I read when I was little), Winston walks in and looks at what I'm reading. He nods and says, "So, you wanted to talk?"

"Yes, unless you're so stuffed that you'll fall asleep on me before I even start talking," I say jokingly.

He laughs and says, "Don't worry. I can never fall asleep when I'm full, and I'm certainly not drunk." This makes me laugh, and he says, "That's the first time I've ever heard you laugh. Ever." He says the last word with emphasis. I know I'm usually serious, but have I really never even taken the time to be like this, just joking around and laughing?I'm silent for a while, and then I say,"Well, you can't really blame me for that. I mean, it's not like people in Panem have a lot to joke about. I'm lucky to actually do it right, after all the stuff I found out about today."

"You may find this strange, Katniss, but a lot of the stuff we saw today didn't actually surprise me. I mean, it was shocking, but I knew they had to have something to hide. What we see go on everyday in District Twelve had to only be part of their corruption. The Party's motto says it all with having ignorance is strengh."

"You're right, Winston. But what surprises me most of all is how the Party members seem to have no guilt at all. Even kids love seeing all that violence. Do you think it is because of their obsession with victory, that they're willing to have it at all costs?"

"That's it. As a matter of fact, that might be all they care about."

At that moment, we hear hollering coming from outside. Even from far away, we can see it: a large crowd of people, yelling all sorts of things, and then something which seems to be hanging, someone holding on to a rope, and then letting it go, at which whatever it is stops moving and justs hangs there, completely still, and then there is not only screaming but also cheering.

"It must have been the hanging of the Eurasian prisoners," says Winston quietly.

"So that's how they do it. It's like how they were when they were watching the film, except now they actually did something..." At that moment, I break down. I start crying more harder than I have ever done my whole life. Winston starts holding me in his arms and says nothing. No words of comfort or even hushing sounds, as some mothers do when their little ones are scared. He just lets me cry, and at one point, when I look at him, I notice that he starts crying a little as well. That's all we need right now, I think: to just let all that pain out.


End file.
